


doom-scrolling

by storyranger



Series: The Prince and The Drifter [3]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: CW: Coronavirus, Current Events, Elias has learned a lot, M/M, cw: US politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyranger/pseuds/storyranger
Summary: "Put down the phone for a minute."Mustafa is reacting to 2021 about as well as milk reacts to lemon juice. It's Elias's turn to do the comforting.
Relationships: Mustafa Ali/Elias Samson
Series: The Prince and The Drifter [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1055168
Kudos: 10





	doom-scrolling

**Author's Note:**

> Where were you when white supremacists stormed the US Capitol? I was in Canada, feeling trapped and helpless. This was written as a reaction, and a coping mechanism, and a prayer.

_It's usually me,_ Elias thinks, as he stares at the back of Mustafa's head. _Usually it's the other way around._

Mustafa's been sitting in the same spot on the bed for at least 45 minutes. Jaw set, hair falling across his face, body perfectly still except for the rhythmic flick of his thumb, scrolling deeper and deeper into the timeline. _A new sitting-still record,_ Elias thinks briefly, then shoves the thought away. This is not the time for jokes.

“Mustafa?”

“Yeah?” He replies without looking up. Probably without actually registering the question.

“Put down the phone for a minute?”

“Mhm. Okay.”

He does not put the phone down.

Elias watches, debating. Then he mentally kicks himself for even hesitating.

He lowers himself gently onto the bed next to Mustafa, covering the other man’s phone screen with one large, callused hand, and gently shoves the phone down into Mustafa's lap.

“Hey,” Mustafa yelps, “I was reading that!”

“And it'll still be there in ten minutes, if it's important. Come on, babe. The doom-scrolling isn't healthy.”

“I know,” says Mustafa quietly. “I _know_. But looking away feels worse.”

Elias know that tone. Fear, anxiety, helplessness. He’s just not used to hearing it come from the perpetually chipper, citrus- and spice-scented ball of energy that is Mustafa Ali. And _goddamnit_ , hearing it now makes him want to break something. But that won’t help. And if there’s one thing Elias has learned from Mustafa, it’s the importance of trying to help. Even when it seems hopeless. _Especially_ when it seems hopeless.

“Hey. I'm not pretending I understand how you feel. I'm not even going to pretend to fully understand what's happening. I know it's fucked up but you know me. I never paid attention to politics until you came along and whacked some sense into me. And to see cops out there condoning this shit. I mean, you were one of them, once. You got out for a reason, but still. This has to be hard to watch.”

Mustafa runs a tired hand through his hair, raking it off his face. He finally meets Elias’s gaze and blows out a frustrated breath.

“Everything is so important and _so fucking stupid._ ”

“Yeah. It is.” Elias replies, grimly. He puts a gentle hand on Mustafa’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before standing back up. “Put the phone down, Ali.”

Mustafa nods, mutely, and drops the phone onto the duvet. Elias rewards him by pulling him up off the bed into a crushing hug.

“We’re going to go downstairs to the gym and go for a run, okay?”

“You hate running.”

“But you don’t.”

Mustafa’s mask of frustration finally cracks, letting slip a tiny smile.

“And if, after ten minutes, you need to pick the phone back up, I won’t stop you. But otherwise, I’m going to kick your ass at bench-pressing.”

Elias grabs both their phones and drops them in his gym bag followed by water bottles and towels, trusting Mustafa to change without needing to be told. Mustafa sheds his jeans and pulls on gym shorts, grabbing a spare mask from his bag and wordlessly shoving it into Elias’s hand. Elias, who has misplaced his own _yet again_ , accepts with minimal amounts of embarrassment.

“Keys?”

Mustafa passes him the plastic rectangle, which gets dropped into the bag before Elias zips everything and hoists it over one shoulder.

“Elias?” Mustafa says quietly, when they reach the elevator.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

 _It’s **me** who should be thanking **you** ,_ Elias thinks. _Thank you for teaching me how to help. How to be here when things get rough. How to stay afloat when the whole world seems like it’s trying to drown you._ But he doesn’t have the words to say those thoughts out loud, not yet. Instead, he hits the button for the ground floor, and simply says,

“Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the line “everything is so important and so fucking stupid” goes to[marisatomay on tumblr](https://disasterlesbian.com/post/639604315750793216/everything-is-so-important-and-so-fucking-stupid)


End file.
